


Green Looks Better On You

by anarchycox



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Phil helps even when he isn't there, takes place around The Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Soulmark AU where what happens to your body, happens a bit to your soulmate. This affects about 20% of the world's population.  Write on your skin in sharpie, they'll see a faint mark of it. You get a scar, they get a bruise in the same place. Soulmates are a dangerous thing to have in the superhero business, and are best avoided.Clint would be happy to ignore that he had a soulmate out there.Except that he keeps turning green, and would kind of like to know, you know...what the hell is that about.





	1. Clint

Shawarma.

Clint sat there, New York in rubble, and surrounded by superheros, eating shawarma. 

Beside Bruce Banner. Who seemed to be enjoying it. Good for him.

Good for the guy who turned green and got huge.

"Anyone got a sharpie?" Clint said, voice too loud in the quiet.

"Yeah, I got one right here." Tony said.

Clint held out his hand.

"I was being sarcastic." Tony looked at him, exhausted. "Sorry, restoring previous functions still. Edge of the universe not as exciting as I hoped." Tony retreated into talking like his was program that was broken. Phil had mentioned it once. The woman who had been sweeping came over with a felt marker.

"Thank you." Clint rolled up his sleeve and Natasha looked at him. He hadn't exposed skin in public in a year. They all watched as he started to write on his arm. He went over the letters a couple times,  making them as dark as possible.

"You have a soulmate." Steve looked at Clint in awe.

"Yeah." Clint didn't say anything else, just went over the letters once more. He then rolled the sleeve down before anyone but Natasha could read it. She went very still and looked at him and shook her head. Clint just nodded to her. She gripped his hand. Clint made sure not to look over, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Bruce pause mid chew and look down at his arm. He waited and Bruce wiped his hands and pushed up his sleeve up. Clint didn't need to see more. He pushed his chair back sharply. "I'm going to Phil's."

Natasha held out her hand. "Phil..."

Clint didn't look at her. "Loki showed me." He walked out of the restaurant. He wound his way through the streets avoiding people, avoiding rubble. Walking and walking until he ended up at Phil's place. The building looked in good shape and he let himself into the place. It was stuffy and dusty. Phil had been on so many missions recently he had only been back every once in a while. He opened some windows and took a shower.

He had saved the world.

Lost his only family.

Found his soulmate.

He was just fucking done.

**********************************

"Look Barney, I have bruises."

"You always have bruises." Barney said.

"Yeah, but always thought they were cause of dad, or the foster families, but look it." Clint held up his arm. "No one's touched me and there it is." There was a faint hand print around his arm. "I think I have a soulmate."

"Shhh, don't say that." Barney said harshly. He dragged Clint away to a corner. "You know people who have soulmates are freaks."

"Lots of people have them. Like one in five."

"Yeah, you ever known one?"

"No." Clint said reluctantly. "But...it means someone out there actually wants me, right?"

"No, it just means the universe has yet another way to hurt you. Just forget about it. Sure it's just from someone here anyways. Now get back to your training."

Clint nodded and went back to shooting practice. But that night he had stolen some paint and he wrote hello on his thigh. In the morning on the other thigh there was a faint mark  _Hi_.

**********************************

Clint found some crackers and nibbled them sitting on Phil's counter. It had been Phil, he would have known, figured it out. Because that's what Phil did. Clint had had free rein in the apartment for years, except for the office. Clint hopped down from the counter and went to the door. He had respected Phil enough to never break in. But he had a feeling Phil wouldn't mind so much. It was locked, of course and Clint crouched down to pick the lock.

"Talk to me Barton."

Clint fell back on his ass and stared at the small panel that had appeared in the wall. Fuck, that hurt, hearing Phil's voice say that. A security program. Right.

"You died sir." He closed his eyes but didn't let a tear fall.

"I bet I wasn't a fan of that."

Clint laughed a little. That was such a Phil thing to program into the machine. He wondered how many different sentences were in there. "Yeah. I wish I had been there. It hurts."

"To be fair, it probably hurt more to die."

"Jackass." Clint's voice sobbed the word.

"Please approach for a retinal and hand scan." Phil's voice told him, it was dry but with a little bit of that Coulson humour in it. Clint did as the program told him. "Please enter Clint. In the event of my death, you have access to everything, even if it pisses Fury off. My will states that everything is yours."

"Phil..." Clint's breath began to heave.

"Goodbye Clint." The program shut down. Clint was glad there was a small couch in there because he needed to sit. It was just too much. Eventually he was able to look around the room and process it. Captain America memorabilia, the computer, the three filing cabinets.

He decided to start at the cabinets. He had to give a thumb print scan to open them and the first was general - his personal files and sure enough there was a copy of his will that left everything to Clint or Natasha if Clint was deceased. There were photos of his family and oh fuck, Phil's notes on Phil's soulmate. Clint knew that you could live after your soul mate died, but it left you cold. He should contact them but he realized looking at the name, that Fury would likely take care of it. And Clint didn't know if he could face them. He had guessed that Phil had one, but it wasn't something they talked about. It was the only thing they didn't talk about.

The next cabinet was all SHIELD business and he figured he'd end up turning most of it over to Hill at some point. The last one though - it was all Strike Team Delta.

Phil had a whole cabinet just for them. For some reason that was what hurt the most and great heaving sobs finally broke through. 10 years he and Phil had worked together, been friends, been family and he was gone. He found himself hugging the cabinet like a pillow. It took him a long time to pull himself together and properly look at the tidy drawers. The top was for the team, missions, reports. The second was all the Black Widow. Clint wouldn't look at would just give her those. The bottom rack was his. He pulled it open and saw the tidily labeled file folders.

But being Phil's private files they had a bit of humour to them.

_Hawkeye's Origin Story_

_Hawkeye's Powers_

_Hawkeye's Successes_

_Hawkeye's Fuck Ups_

_Hawkeye's Likes and Dislikes_

and there the one at the back

 _Hawkeye's Soulmate_.

It was a surprisingly thick file.

He knew Phil would have known. Now he had to decide if he was pissed that Phil had known. He pulled the file out.

**********************************

"Agent Barton, do you remember me?"

"Yeah. You shot me." Clint sat at in the office he had been sent to and glared at the man.

"Yes, well, I needed you to listen to my offer."

"You could have tried hello, I have a job offer."

"The last agent did that, you gave him a concussion and broken arm. I have too much work to do to bother with casts." Phil opened a file. "Now then, I have analyzed all of our intel on you and think that you will make a very good asset but there are a few holes in your personal file that do need to be discussed."

"You want to ask how long my mom breastfed me?"

"No." Phil smiled just a little. "I want to know if you intend to ever find your soulmate."

"I'm not a soul carrier." Clint said levelly. 

"Yes you are." Phil's voice was equally matter of fact. The two men stared at each other. And kept staring. Eventually Phil just twitched his sleeve a little and Clint thought he saw a hint of marker on the man's arm. He nodded.

"No. Being my soulmate has to be rough enough. Adding actually meeting me, can't do him any good."

"We could bring the person in, offer them protection."

"Aren't they safer not knowing who I am?"

Phil tilted his head a little. "But they'll have been hurt over the years and will hurt again and never know why."

"Your notes have any intel about my shoulder."

"Minor scald."

"Acid burn near as I can guess and if it mottled my skin my soulmate must have been hurt good. He's not had it any easier than me."

"He?"

Clint just shrugged. They tried to keep apart, sent only a few messages written on skin over the years and no personal information. He had a feeling they were trying to protect each other. But what little he had, felt like a guy. Maybe that was stupid. "Fate throws us together we'll deal then. Otherwise, we pretend it doesn't exist." Clint gave a cheerful smile, "Don't even care really."

Phil looked at him carefully. "Have you ever been injured enough by your soulmate to adversely affect your work?"

"Nope."

Phil made a note. "Very well."

"That all, sir?" Sir very much sounded like a curse word.

"Not even remotely Barton, I'm just getting started with you." 

******************************

There were Phil's notes and he meticulously kept track of any bruise or cut that couldn't be explained by Clint or the job. He even had notes of the handful of times he had caught Clint writing on his skin. He had caught most of them, but not all.

And then there it was. Phil's notes wondering about the possibility that Bruce Banner, aka the Incredible Hulk might be Clint's soulmate. There were numerous requests to research the possibility which were all denied, until a year ago, when it shows theory confirmed.

Clint's vision went white for a second in rage.

******************************

"Barton, why are you wearing coloured contacts?" Phil asked as they sat in the van waiting for word from Natasha.

"Not."

"Last I checked your eyes were not that green. It doesn't suit you."

Clint grabbed the rear view mirror and sure enough they were green. "Not me boss." Left unsaid was who could make Clint's eyes change colour. Two days later they were back to the normal colour. 

But it happened more and more and Clint knew that Coulson was tracking it. And then came the day when Phil asked if he had eaten some bad food, because he was looking a little green.

"Oh fuck off. I'm fine." Clint snapped. He paused, he hadn't talked to Phil like that in years. "Sir."

"We're done here for the day, you are coming home with me." On the walk to Phil's apartment, Clint jammed his hands into his pockets to hide their green tinge.

He started to wear sunglasses all the time to hide the regular colour shit, long sleeves and fingerless gloves. Luckily the green colour didn't ever reach his neck or face.

Until a year ago. He showed up on Coulson's steps, full green and shaking. "Coulson, what's happening to me?" He thought he saw a flash of something on Coulson's face but the man herded him into the apartment and pushed him into a shower. He could hear Phil making phone calls and yelling but he was a little too distracted by his dick being green to focus. Eventually the water went cold and he stepped out of the shower relieved when he saw the pile of flannel pajamas and over sized hoodie waiting for him. He dressed in the clothes, including the Captain America no slip socks and went to take up his usual corner on the couch.

"Pizza will be here in 20." Phil said.

"You're angry."

"I'm trying to get answers and people are not as forthcoming as I would prefer." That was Phil speak for he was ready to cut off someone's head.

"I'm green Phil." Clint just sounded puzzled. "What the hell is going on to the other person that I all of a sudden have a green dick?"

Phil snorted a little. "That's the part that bothers you the most isn't it?"

"You deal with your dick going green." Clint grumbled from the corner.

Phil was saved from answering by the arrival of pizza. They ate and watched bad t.v. and Clint tried to ignore Phil's furious texting. Eventually Clint lay down on the sofa. He noticed his skin was fading back to normal colour. "Phil."

"I know." Phil stood up. "Rest." He went into his office to make some calls.

Clint drifted in and out of sleep and could just occasionally hear Phil yelling. It cut in and out, but he hear, " _forget asset, he's my best friend and he deserves to know..." "you don't think this has ramifications..." "I know about the Initiative you jackass..." "go to hell, sir."_

A while later Phil came over and wrapped a blanket better around Clint. "I'm your best friend?" Clint asked sleepily.

Phil paused. "Don't let it get around, Barton." A touch to the shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"S'okay. Know you tried."

"I'll keep trying." Phil promised the sleeping man.

******************************

Clint looked at the papers and realized that for the last year every five days Phil submitted the paperwork requesting to tell Clint the truth. It was always denied by Hill or Fury, and Phil's requests got more pointed and creative as the pile went on. The last one in the file was a couple weeks before New Mexico and it warned that Phil was losing patience with the rules and Clint would know the truth before the Initiative went live, or Phil promised consequences. Clint knew that meant he would have told Natasha and then let her loose.

He should have known that Phil was in his corner.

He wished Phil was beside him right now. He could use some advice, because all he wanted to do was run away.

Who the fuck could cope with being the soulmate of one of the world's leading scientists who also happened to be a giant scary rage monster?

He thumped his back against the filing cabinet and heard a slight clang. He looked down and the back panel shifted and there were a couple hidden pages.

_Hawkeye's Bolt Holes_

Phil had done pretty good, had hunted down most of the places. He read the list, skimmed it really, and had to go back.

Farm?

He didn't have a farm.

"I don't have a farm." he said out loud. "I hate the country." He remembered all the middle of nowhere he had seen as a kid and how much he wanted to get away from it. "Computer?" there was nothing. "Phil voice that kind of creeps me out?" Still nothing. "Coulson, sir."

"Made you say sir." Phil's voice said.

"Fuck you." Clint said, desperate not to find it funny.

"I remember it as the other way around." 

"One time, to blow off steam and your dead preprogrammed voice won't let it go." Clint shook his head. "We are not introducing you to JARVIS."

"How do you think I did this?"

Clint paused. "Right. That does explain it. Anyways. I don't own a farm."

"Yes you do." Phil's voice said calmly. "Strike Team Delta does. I bought it, an escape plan for you, Natasha, and myself, just in case. It shows up nowhere in the SHIELD records. I was very careful."

"Always taking care of us, boss?"

"Always." Phil's voice promised, just like the man always had.

"This is going to be hard to do without you." Clint admitted.

"Am I really dead?"

"Like 98% certain." Clint answered. He then paused. "But we're SHIELD." he thought about it. "Can't look for you, make sure, because if that 2% chance exists only Fury knows and he won't say anything unless the time is right. I have to let go of you for right now. But I'm going to hold onto the idea of that 2%." Clint hung his head. "I'm scared. But I'm an Avenger, I guess. So running would be stupid."

"Confirming that certain locations are secure, could be considered an advisable course of action, so long as one didn't stay gone forever." 

"That doesn't sound like you."

"Did you read the files about yourself?"

"Yeah."

"I would imagine, no matter how unflappable I appear, learning that the Hulk was my soulmate would give me pause."

Clint laughed, a bleak, terrified sound. "Me. The universe decided to bind my soul, everything I am to a man who when he gets cranky turns into a limitless rage monster. You once said that I could drive the Buddha to a killing spree."

"My program doesn't have an appropriate response inputted. I could say There There in an attempt to be soothing." There was a pause. "Or I could inform you that you have a bug out bag with keys to a car three streets away, which in turn has keys to a safe deposit box in Chicago, which has the keys to the farm, hidden under the floorboards under the sofa."

Clint smiled a little. "Does Natasha have access to the office? She'll come looking for me tomorrow."

"She does."

"Are you at the farm too?"

"No this is the only location of this program."

Clint nodded at stood up. "Bye, Phil."

The program didn't respond.

Clint grabbed the bag and was out of the city in a few hours.

That asshole had guaranteed the only music that would play in the car was the soundtracks from the old Captain America movies. It was perfect.

**************************************

"Hey Phil?" Clint was lying in a pool of blood trying to figure out how much was his and how much was the bad guy's.

"Medic is on the way. You aren't so bad." Phil said calmly. "And you will hold on, that is an order."

"I lied to SHIELD you know."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't." Phil was trying to staunch the bleeding.

"Haha." Clint would have actually laughed, but he was pretty sure he had a couple broken ribs.

"I absolutely care about who my soulmate is." Clint said. "I would have loved to meet them, but what person would want to be stuck with me?" Clint blinked. Phil seemed far away. "Bet the green, you know the thing that's been happening? Bet it looks great on them." He passed out hoping this wasn't hurting his soulmate too much.

 


	2. Bruce

Bruce sat in the car as Natasha drove. He had said that he could go alone but she had just given him that look she had, the one that said you will do what I want, or I'll break your legs. She was quiet as they drove to Kentucky and Bruce felt sick. 

Nerves, aftermath of the battle, he couldn't say.

"I am sorry about -"

"No," Natasha said. Bruce had watched her dismantle the voice program after it said two sentences in Russian to her. He wondered what those sentences had been. He had watched her go through files and he made sure to turn away when he saw her wipe away a tear. They had taken a few hours, Natasha determined to secure the location.

Bruce was quiet for another 50 miles. "What can you tell me about him?"

"Clint?" Bruce nodded. "He's Clint," Natasha said. "He brought me in. He's an idiot. He's the best SHIELD has." And that seemed to sum up everything she was going to say.

Bruce pretended to sleep.

They arrived at the farm at dawn and the old house was lit up. Clint had come out on the porch with his bow when he heard the car. He kept it aimed until they stepped out hands up.

"Tell me you brought some paint, this place is the worst colour ever."

"We haven't slept in 38 hours, Barton," Natasha said. "Sorry we didn't pick up any paint."

"Yeah well not like I've slept either." Clint lowered the bow. "There are sleeping bags, come on in."

Bruce followed Natasha. It was a nice house, big, lots of light, needing work but sound. He was poking about the big family room and heard a noise, a muffled sob. He turned and saw Clint and Natasha holding each other close. Of course. He didn't think his soulmate would really want him. Bruce started to go outside to give them some privacy.

"Come on, Banner, upstairs with us," Clint said.

"Oh," Bruce found himself blushing a little. "I'm not into -"

Natasha glared at him. "We all need sleep. Clint has a room secured."

"Right." God he was an idiot. He followed them upstairs and saw the room. It was nice. He didn't think it was the master bedroom, but the windows had a good view of the lane. Clint had put the mattress on the ground and there were pillows and sleeping bags. Bruce watched the two of them strip to their underwear and place an absurd amount of weapons around the room. 

"Jesus, Banner, get comfy before you fall asleep standing up," Clint said. 

Bruce stripped down and wrapped himself in a sleeping bag. It felt so good.

He yawned and watched Clint settle and open his arms. Natasha slid into them and they spoke in Russian. Bruce heard Phil's name. He still was having difficulty figuring out what the man meant to them. Clint kissed Natasha's hair and began to sing a lullaby.

Bruce drifted off and realized he had heard that voice in his dreams, a long time ago.

**************************************

When he woke in late afternoon, he was alone. He saw that a pair of sweats and a t-shirt had been left and he put them on. He went downstairs but no one seemed there. He followed a noise to the back of the house and saw Clint chopping wood. He went to the kitchen where there was coffee waiting in a state of the art pot. He poured two cups and brought them outside.

"Nice coffee machine."

"Phil would never have a bolt hole that didn't at least have the ability for decent coffee," Clint gave the axe a swing and stuck it into the base of a large old trunk. He came over and took the cup offered.

"My sympathies," Bruce said quietly.

"For what?"

"For Coulson."

"Oh that," Clint waved it off.

Bruce blinked. "That is rather harsh."

Clint made a squiggy face. "But we talked about this."

"You mean you and Natasha talked, in Russian," Bruce said.

"You don't speak Russian?" Clint seemed puzzled.

"No."

"Oh," Clint drank some coffee. "Yeah, Phil's alive."

"He was stabbed through the chest with a spear."

"Nah, he's alive. There's like a 2% chance." Clint looked out at the trees. "He picked a good place here, it will be nice when he breaks out and needs to recover."

"You are basing this attitude on 2%," Bruce watched Clint trying to understand.

"Already cried, already know there is a hole in my heart, so I can be pissed at Loki, angry at the universe, or I can believe in that 2%, in Phil. That will keep me sane a lot longer, so, you know. Not dead."

"I thought you were dead," Bruce blurted out.

"Huh?" Clint turned to face him more fully.

"I thought my soulmate was dead, years ago." 

"How'd you figure that?" Clint asked. "I've sent you messages, been hurt plenty that you would have noticed."

Bruce shook his head. "When the accident happened it made the connection even more faded and I dismissed the stomach ache as strained muscles."

"I was gut shot."

"A twisted ankle."

"Completely shattered from a four story fall," Clint said. 

"You never wrote, until shawarma."

"I wrote," Clint was angry. "I wrote and wrote asking if you were okay, asking why I was green." Bruce could see Clint getting angrier. "I went green bit by bit and then one day, just all green. I was scared shitless and after that time I covered my body in words, begging you to find me, to tell me who you were. I wanted to help you, and you thought I was dead? Bullshit. I went over those marks a lot, they were dark. Some would have gotten through."

Bruce felt horrible. "I...if that is when I think, I was out for days after. They would have faded."

"You're lying, I kept rewriting them for a week."

"I wanted you to be dead. Does that make it better?" Bruce found himself shouting. "I kept hoping the barest hint of letter I saw was a mistake a figment of my imagination. I wanted you dead, so that I wouldn't be putting you through even 1/10th of what I was going through."

Bruce stumbled back as Clint punched him. He sat down on the porch in shock.

"Oh fuck you," Clint snarled. "Do you even hear how that sounds? You wanted your soulmate dead. You wanted me to not exist. And not out of some noble spirit, don't fucking kid yourself. You wanted me dead, because it would make your life easier."

"You punched me," Bruce wiped the bit of blood away.

"Well, you are a jackass."

"With anger issues," Bruce reminded him.

"Oh boo fucking hoo, princess," Clint snarled. "Who doesn't?"

"Mine are a little different." Bruce started to laugh. And he couldn't stop until his sides were hurting. He wasn't sure he had laughed like that in years.

"What the hell?"

"No one has just decked me in years. Turning into a rage monster sort of makes people tread lightly around me."

"I only tread lightly on an op," Clint said.

Bruce was down to giggles. "Shit, there might be something to this soulmate stuff, because anyone else and he'd be busting out right about now." Bruce started to breathe normally again. "Why didn't you go green during the battle?"

"Think there was just enough Loki in my head left that it sort of suppressed it," Clint said. "Hell maybe proximity makes that less, I'm not a scientist."

"I am," Bruce smiled a little. Clint was pretty adorable.

"So, I've heard." Clint looked out at the trees again. "Get off my farm."

Bruce felt his breath catch. "I'm sorry?" He watched Clint fish into his pocket and pull out a set of keys. He caught them automatically.

"I didn't hunt my soulmate down, because I didn't want them caught in all the crazy that was my life," Clint said. "But I always thought being one of the people who was a soul carrier, was a gift, a goddamn miracle. And then I find out my other half wished I was dead."

"I...it wasn't..." Bruce wished he could explain how it all felt, all the pain, the confusion.

"We'll work together, because Phil would have wanted that, he always believed I would be a part of saving the world. But don't worry Dr. Banner, I won't try to create anything between us." Clint went back to the axe. "Get off my farm. I rej-"

"Please don't say those words," Bruce begged. If Clint said them, there was no coming back and Bruce realized how desperate he was not to have that door closed. "Please, don't."

Clint clenched his jaw but didn't finish his sentence. Bruce went to the car and drove down the lane before pulling over. He hurt, it hurt so much. He searched the car and luckily in the console there was a marker. He wrote  _I'm sorry_ on his arm again and again.

He dozed on the side of the road, still worn out from everything. When he woke the moon was high and he put the interior light on. He searched his arms, his chest, even checked his legs.

There was no reply message.


	3. Clint

He really needed to stop chopping wood, there was more than enough. Clint knew Phil would be mad at the way he was wrecking his hands right now, but it was either work too hard or climb into a bottle. And the thought of that always scared Clint that he might not come out. It was getting dark anyways, time to switch to something else.

Scraping ugly wallpaper at 1am gave a man time to think. Sort things out, maybe reach life altering decisions.

Clint was very good at making sure he didn't think. He had years of practice. He stripped and stripped the wallpaper and kept ignoring the I'm sorry that was on his arm. Asshole had wanted him to be dead the least he could do was stop trying to be nice now.

Not like Clint really wanted a soulmate. 

And knowing it was Bruce, Dr. Bruce Banner, one of the greatest scientific minds alive?

He'll realize soon enough that he was better off thinking the soulmate dead, than being Clint.

At 3 his hands cramped and he could hear Phil yelling at him in his head. He went and got some ice packs and crawled into his sleeping bag. Fuck he wished Phil were here. He'd fix it. He always fixed it. He pulled the material over his head and tried to hide. Clint wanted his dad. He then laughed a little because Phil would have kicked his ass if he had called him dad. Older brother with impeccable taste, thank you very much, he would have said. Then he would have made Clint pancakes because Phil always fixed it with pancakes. They would have then made a plan and Phil would have made him stick to it.

Clint fell asleep trying to figure out what Phil would have told him to do.

The next day was more of the same, seeing the words I'm sorry on his arm and working too hard. He figured he had another day or two before Natasha came back and kicked his ass. She was also good at telling him what to do, she just did it with punches instead of pancakes. At this point he'd relish that sort of pain. He went into town and bought primer and paint and got three rooms done before he passed out.

He woke up to the smell of pancakes. Phil's pancakes.

Clint stumbled downstairs and ran to the kitchen. "Phil."

Melinda May, The fucking Calvary stood there in front of a griddle and pouring out pancakes. "He made them for me too," she said quietly. She looked at Clint, eyes dead. "Go get dressed, don't need to see your dick, Barton, even if it is a a decent one."

"Uh, thanks?" Clint cupped a hand over himself. "I'll just get dressed."

"Shower too, you smell like sadness and paint."

"May, I'm -"

"If you say you are sorry for my loss, I will walk over there and kill you with this spatula."

He knew she could do it too. Clint went upstairs and got clean. He came back down and they sat in silence and ate the pancakes. 

Clint had no idea what to say to her. He took a minute and said the most profound thing he could think of, "Want to refinish floors?"

"Yes," Melinda agreed.

They moved the few pieces of furniture out of the way and look at the stripper Clint had rented from town. They then grabbed sandpaper and got down on their hands and knees and began to work. Clint put on the music loud and hard and they worked around the room. When Melinda paused and dug her nails into the wood, he ignored it. And he definitely ignored the splatter of tears as she took the finish down on the wood.

Everyone knew the Calvary didn't cry. He would never say different.

They worked through lunch until the floor was completely stripped down and a few other things besides. Melinda disappears for an hour and returns with food and whiskey. They eat in silence and sit on the floor and just pass the bottle back and forth.

They don't say a goddamn word.

For three days.

Not a single word, they just work and drink. Rinse and repeat.

The house is looking good. More like Clint, less like a safe house. They don't mention that the walls are painted Phil's favourite shade of blue. 

Clint is sitting on the porch when Melinda comes out and sits next to him, but for the first time there is no whiskey.

"I thought it would be Natasha," Clint said breaking their silence.

"Fury sent her on a quick mission."

"She wouldn't have gone, not while things are so -" Clint could think of a word beyond fucked up.

"I suggested it," Melinda said. "She listened."

They stare at the woods, at the sky. Not really seeing it.

"He wished I was dead," Clint finally said. "He doesn't want me."

Melinda keeps quiet.

Clint shut up for as long as he could before all the words tumbled out of him, including the phrase  _whacking off with a green dick_ , which he was so going to regret later. He furiously brushed away some tears. Tears for what he lost under Loki, for what he never had with his soulmate, for the knuckles that were bloody from all their work. And just...just to cry. A little bit.

Melinda didn't say a thing, just put her hand on his knee and waited. Waited for the questions she knew were coming.

"Why weren't you and Phil together?" Clint finally asked. "I saw his arm, I knew he wrote to you. I know you answered. You were a team, but you were married, and then you weren't a team, and you weren't married. But still, just...I know he loved you. He said it once, during an op."

"Did he?"

"Okay, no, he didn't say I love the goddamn Calvary,"  Clint admitted.

"Don't call me that."

Clint realized something. "He never did. Call you that," he said. He put his head in his hands. "He never said it was you, all he said once, when he was very tired was  _the sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe_."

Melinda smiled a little. "That sounds like the crap he found online and loved." Melinda stood up and faced Clint. She slowly began to unbutton her shirt.

"Uh...what the hell May? Not that you aren't hot as fuck, and trust me, I generally like women who can kill me, it's a kink, but I'm so not wanting sex right now, not even for solace." Clint wondered if he should run away.

Melinda dropped her top, and she hadn't been wearing a bra, but Clint didn't stare at her tits. He reached a hand out and figured she would break his fingers but she didn't. Clint traced the scar on her chest, could feel her heart beat. Melinda turned around and it was uglier on that side, the entrance side. But long healed, though only a few days old..

He could only imagine how it would have looked on Phil.

"I had thought you rejected him." Clint said dully.

Melinda put the shirt back on. "You and Natasha thought you knew him, and you did. And he loved you. But you didn't have the whole of him, you had the pieces he gave you. He gave everyone different pieces."

"And what pieces did you have?" Clint asked curious.

Melinda touched the scar. "I didn't have a piece."

Clint frowned, because that wasn't Phil. And then he ached for her, for Phil. "You were what held the pieces together."

She nodded.

"What's holding you together now?" Clint whispered.

"What makes you think anything is?" Melinda countered and went back into the house.

In the fading like Clint saw the words I'm sorry appear again on his skin. He eventually went to bed and ignored the keening sound that came from the room Melinda had taken over.

The morning came without Melinda, but she had left a note:

_He wanted you to be happy._

_He wanted you to have everything he and I didn't think we could._

_You never disappointed him before._

_Don't do so now._

_Paint the bathrooms yellow, not the purple you bought._

Clint smiled at the last line, even as the rest made him ache. He picked up his phone and was put on hold for what felt like hours. "Fury," he said when he was finally put through.

"Ready to stop being a baby and help come home and fix the world?" Fury asked.

"Asshole, I'm dealing with some shit."

"We're all dealing with shit, and some of that shit has large ass guns and a grudge. We could use you."

"I'll be back in less than a week," Clint promised.

"I have a depressed scientist in one of our labs, and the junior nerds keep waiting for him to go green. Think you'll be able to help with that?"

"Could have helped sooner, if you had just let Phil telling the goddamn truth, sir." Clint felt rage grow. For himself, for Bruce, for Melinda. For Phil. "Were you the reason Phil and Melinda weren't truly together?"

Fury was quiet. Clint could hear him sit down, hear the sigh and just how weary the man was. He remembered that Fury lost Phil too. "I was part of the reason," Fury admitted. "And I was wrong. For them, and for you. And now I'm getting out of the way of that, if only to get him out of our labs. Stark keeps trying to steal him to his tower and Bruce just says that he's staying here that you need to see him staying put."

Clint nodded a little to himself. "Within the week, but I'm not field ready, sir, not even a little."

"Plenty for you to do here, Agent," Fury said. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"For what it's worth, I almost believe you," Clint replied. "Sir, you need to keep an eye on May."

"Don't worry, I'm playing a long game and she's a part of it. I'll keep watch on her."

Clint hung up, neither man really did goodbyes.

He painted the bathrooms yellow with purple trim. When he was cleaning up, he noticed something. Clint walked around the whole house and realized that Melinda had left a black sharpie on every flat surface in the place.

Clint figured he had been hit over the head enough.

He picked up a sharpie and wrote a short sentence carefully over and over on his face. Never let it be said that Clint believe in subtle.

*********************************

Bruce walked into the lab, shoulders slumped like usual, head in reports and hadn't noticed all the stares. He sat at his table and looked through the microscope.

There was a small cough beside him and the woman squeaked when he looked up. "Sir, you really should report that to Fury. Abuse of that nature isn't tolerated at SHIELD."

"What abuse?" Bruce asked.

She pointed to the wall, the fridge provided a reflective surface.

Bruce stared.

I'M A  was on his forehead.

ASS was on one cheek,

HOLE was on the other.

Bruce smiled just a little and got back to work.

 


	4. Bruce

"Come on, Bruce, my toys are better," Tony said start at the lab.

"Really?" Bruce looked at him. "You have better that this entire floor?" He made a note on his page. "And the two floors below? And better than Fitz and Simmons here?" He pointed and the two waved, with Fitz staring at Tony in reverence.

"My labs come with me, that's worth more than all this," Tony countered. "I bet this computer doesn't even have -" He poked to prove his point. "Actually, this is a really good system," Tony being an easily distracted toddler started to type and play with the schematics on the screen. "Who's idea is this?"

"Mine, Mr. Stark," Fitz managed to say.

"Right, it's crap," Tony said.

"It is not!" Jemma said sharply when Fitz looked ready to cry.

"No see here, this is wrong for field use. Learned that the hard way," Tony pointed. "Come here, let's fix this." Fitz hurried over and Bruce smiled. He figured he had a few hours before Tony came up for air. He went back to his microscope and conversation with Simmons. Jemma and Bruce were quiet and Tony and Fitz were loud and people scurried in and out. 

"Sir," Jemma said quietly.

"Bruce," he reminded her gently.

"It's happening again," she whispered.

Bruce looked at his hands and nothing there and the rest of him was mostly covered by clothes and his lab coat which meant. "Face?"

"Neck."

"Do I want to look?"

"He actually has a fair bit of artistic talent for drawing dicks?" Jemma offered.

Bruce sighed and looked at his reflection in the glass as a string of dicks formed around his throat. A lot of care was being put into drawing them. And oh look there was sperm now too.

"Uh, Bruce?" Tony had looked up. He was pointing. "Nice art?"

"Been happening all week," Fitz said. "Though usually it is just insults. The art is new."

"Huh," Tony looked at it. "Did you fight with your soulbond then?"

"Sort of," was all Bruce would say. He went back to work. 

Two hours later Fury came storming in. "Attack in Maine, god knows why, but suit up."

Fitz and Jemma looked terrified. "I think he means us," Bruce reassured them and they breathed easy.

Tony and Bruce followed Fury through SHIELD until they reached a quinjet where Natasha and Steve were talking. Fury gave them a quick debrief and they all climbed in. 

"Hello everyone, looks like we'll be having a smooth flight today, though I do apologize that the drink cart is out of commission," Clint said from the pilot's seat. Natasha rolled her eyes and went to sit beside him.

"Clint," Bruce said softly, voice a mix of happy and worry.

"Doctor Banner," Clint said he turned his head a little and stared at him.

"Hey matching dicks!" Tony shouted.

"Tony," Steve said disapprovingly.

"No, look, matching dicks," Tony pointed between the two. "They're a soulbond. Holy crap, you two are -" Tony lost his words and started gesturing.

"Sit down and lock in, we've got monsters to defeat," Clint said simply. He had them in the air in ten minutes.

The two men didn't have a chance to talk. Clint wasn't quite field ready so he stayed with the plane while the others went to deal with...whatever it was. Big and slimy. Banner had hulked out and run when Natasha called for the back up and Clint did his best to co-ordinate like Phil had taught him. When he was given an all clear he flew closer to the team who were rather covered in something icky.

"Not gonna lie, happy I missed this," Clint said, looking at the goo in Natasha's hair. She flung a handful at him in retaliation.

Everyone froze went Hulk stomped over and picked her up. "No," Hulk yelled. "No be mean to match." He shook her a little. "We keep him safe."

"Hey, there, fella, how about your put her down?" Clint asked. "She was just teasing, playing."

"You other half. We protect you," Hulk said firmly. "We protect you by staying away, but here now so keep you safe."

"Pick me up, big guy," Clint asked. The other hand came down and picked him up gently. Clint took off his gloves and showed his green hands. "Hey look, we match."

Hulk nodded. "Mine?"

"Well your nerdier half and I have to work that out a bit still."

"Mine," Hulk said louder. "Mine too."

"Yeah, think so. But that means you be nice to Natasha okay? She's kind of my favourite."

"Not us?" Hulk sounded so sad.

"Different sort of favourite, okay?" Clint smiled at Hulk. "So be cool."

Hulk put them both down carefully and pat Natasha's head. "We keep match's favourite safe now too."

"Thank you," she said. It was difficult to tell if she was sincere.

Hulk yawned and they all watched him shrink back down to Banner. Bruce looked at Clint. "Sorry you turn green," he said before collapsing.

Clint caught him. "It does look better on you." Natasha stood there smirking at him a bit. "Oh help me get him to the plane." She slung Bruce's arm around her shoulder and the two of them dragged him to the jet where Steve and Tony were already waiting. Tony tossed a pair of sweats over and Clint gently dressed Bruce and strapped him in. He checked that no one was looking and gave Bruce's head a quick kiss before going to the cockpit. 

"You figure it out?" Natasha asked him.

"Not really, but I don't want to be as sad as Phil was," Clint answered. "Did you know?"

Natasha shook her head. "He had more secrets than I thought. He always had such obvious tells, turns out those were hiding a lot."

Clint nodded. "Things are really messed up, but I think if I do my best not to disappoint him, keep that in my head, it should be okay, right?"

"What would Phil do as a moral compass?"

"Something like that," Clint agreed as he got them in the air.

"There are worse ideas," she decided.

Clint nodded. "Yeah, lots of worse ones."

**********************************

Bruce woke up in quarters at SHIELD. Small, but personalized. He looked around and realized it must be where Clint bunked down. His legs tickled and he looked down. And there was Clint drawing on him. More trash talk and silly faces and poop.

"Figured I'd go direct to the source," Clint said. 

"Saves you walking around all those marks on you," Bruce replied looking at the string of dicks on Clint's neck.

"Yup," Clint agreed and put the cap on the marker.

They sat on the bed and stared each other.

"I didn't want you dead, not really, it was just -" Bruce wasn't sure how to finish the sentence.

"I sort of get it," Clint said after a few minutes. "I know this other soul couple, and they are more fucked up than us. And made me realize that maybe we could make something of this. If we wanted to," Clint shrugged.

"It's scary," Bruce said.

"Fucking terrifying. You turn my dick green," Clint grinned. 

"I am really sorry about that."

"One day maybe we can role play Kirk and a green alien. Because the green sometimes lingers even after you've turned back. I think you have a lot of residual anger."

"You have no idea," Bruce said sadly.

"I'd like to?" Clint asked.

"It isn't pretty."

"Hey I'm 8 kinds of fucked up too," Clint said. "Might as well be fucked up together."

"I don't," Bruce wondered if he was about to make it worse. "I don't want us to formally acknowledge the bond yet."

Clint looked at him. "It's mac and cheese day in the mess. It is almost good. I could buy you some lunch." 

Bruce nodded. "It's a date?"

"It's a date," Clint agreed seriously.

"I like mac and cheese," Bruce said.

"Tell me what else you like," Clint said as they got up and started to walk.

Bruce did and they talked through lunch and when Bruce went to the lab, Tony was there arguing with Fitz and Jemma was pulling out their experiment. They all looked at him. Jemma pointed at his face.

He sighed, he had only been away from Clint for 20 minutes he wondered what it was now. He looked at his reflection and realized that Clint had drawn a heart onto them.

*********************************************

Clint had been bored and decided to take a crawl through the vents. Natasha was out on a mission and Bruce had finally been dragged to Tony's labs and had been occupied with some weird sort of experiment that he didn't want to question too closely. After a few months he had learned to focus on their results and not how they got there. It was better for his sanity. They had been dating and slowly learning how they liked each other outside the bond. The answer for Clint was a lot. And he was sure Bruce felt the same.

He wandered through the vents until his ended up in a rather boring section of SHIELD. He wouldn't admit he was checking on Melinda.

He heard a voice and froze. It was a voice that shouldn't be there. He moved swiftly until he had a sight line and almost gave himself away.

There was Phil talking to Melinda like he hadn't been dead for months.

"You just want me to fly?" Melinda asked.

"Just fly, promise, no field work," he said.

Clint watched them look at each other. It was all he could do not to scream at them to hug, kiss, do something. Anything but act like how they were. He saw Phil move his hand and caught the barest glimpse of some writing on his wrist. Clint breathed a little easier when Melinda agreed to go with Phil. Phil was about to leave but looked up.

Clint stayed very still. Phil gave a small nod and the barest hint of a smile up to the vent. Clint wiped away a tear and crawled away.

************************************************

Bruce was bickering with Tony over their project when the doors to the lab were thrown open. He barely had time to brace himself as Clint hurled himself at Bruce and kissed him hungrily. Bruce sank into the kiss and held Clint close. "Hello?"

"Hi," Clint said.

"You okay?" Bruce asked concerned.

"Bond with me," Clint blurted out. "Make it official that we are a found set."

"Why? What happened Clint?" Even Tony was looking concerned.

"Because I don't want to stare at you across a desk one day and say nothing, when I should be saying everything," Clint said after a moment.

"I don't understand," Bruce admitted.

Clint just shook his head. "I love you," he said. "Bond with me, properly."

That Bruce could understand just fine. "I love you too. And okay."

"Wait, really?" Clint was sure it would be more of a fight than that.

Bruce kissed him gently. "Really."

"That's great we'll have a party. Can we get back to science now?" Tony asked.

"No," Bruce and Clint said and Bruce happily let Clint drag him out of the lab.

"But science!"

"But happily ever after!" Clint shouted back.

"Is that what we're aiming for?" Bruce asked. "Are we that lucky?"

"No, but we'll aim for it anyways."

"I like long term project goals," Bruce said happily.

"Me too." Clint pushed Bruce into his apartment and closed the door. "Mine," he said possessively.

"Yours. Always," Bruce agreed.


End file.
